


Don't put the baby in the corner

by Eggplantssandpeachess



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Baby, Domestic, M/M, Murder Husbands, On the Run, Post Season 3 AU, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, babies are difficult, domestic murder lifestyle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 00:23:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17970902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggplantssandpeachess/pseuds/Eggplantssandpeachess
Summary: Hannibal and Will are living in France with new identities --  no surprises there.While Will is away at work Hannibal's day off is thrown into disarray when he finds an unexpected guest at his door.





	Don't put the baby in the corner

Of course, it was just another typical morning. The term ‘Typical’ being far from the normal definition, because  Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham were and have always been anything but normal. But against all logical and realistic odds their lives had recently been as ordinary as one would expect for a pair of fugitive, cannibalistic serial killers with false identities hiding away in some small town in the scenic French countryside.

 

 

As it were ‘Mr. Belvedere’, lecturer at the University had gone to work leaving ‘Dr. Belvedere’ at home on his day off…

 

 

Hannibal was standing in his kitchen taking stock of his inventory, his mind piecing together a menu for lunch. Feeling particularly leisurely he decided to make a sandwich, something simple and elegant, perhaps with fresh baguettes from the local baker.

 

 

There were still plenty of cold cuts of Mrs. Agusta wrapped in the fridge and Hannibal found that he had ran out of bread and eggs as well, so a trip into town was in order either way.

 

 

After a brief but critical assessment in the mirror Hannibal was pleased to see his neat visage. A linen button up and dark pants, no tie, his Will had recommended, since the small town was relaxed, a relaxed aesthetic was in order. Hannibal agreed happily.

 

 

He opened the front door to their modest two story home; all faded bricks and faded timber. Inside, the house had been modernized but Hannibal retained its aged character, the kitchen, of course, had to be state of the art -- finest restaurant quality, he would not settle for less.

 

 

With a small satisfied smile he stepped out content to land on the floor and proceed in the usual fare of walking casually towards his car, but abruptly and unexpectedly he paused midway.

 

 

His leg hung in the air above something that was not usually there at the front of their door. A something that looked to be a basket of some kind; old wicker, brittle, full of tattered blankets.

 

 

Hannibal looked down, and he stared further beneath the shadow of his Italian leather covered foot. He blinked as the swathe of material moved, a small fleshy fist poked out.

 

 

It was beginning to look ridiculous, a six foot man, capable of murder and evading the FBI, standing frozen, balancing on one leg as though half way doing yoga at the frame of his door. But no matter how much information he processed his body stood immobile.

 

 

Suddenly, another small determined fist pulled apart the blanket and from underneath appeared a small face. The face of a baby.

 

 

Hannibal gasped without his usual decorum, and clumsily moved his imposing foot. He held the door frame for support and suddenly remembered he was outside. Hannibal looked around warily, scanning his surroundings in the apt way of an apex predator. Beyond the stone porch he saw nothing but the large stretch of trees in his front yard. Nothing to suggest how the infant came to be at his door.

 

 

He kneeled down and greeted his unexpected guest. “Hello,” He said, voice deep and soothing.

 

 

A pair of large eyes locked towards his position and Hannibal could finally see them clearly. They were simply beautiful, heterochromatic, one a muted chocolate while the other had a burst of crystal blue that seemed to refuse to be subdued by the surrounding brown.

 

 

The infant was quiet, not a sound or look of distress. It stared with a fathomless expression pointed directly at the old man in front of it.

 

 

Hannibal tilted his head in mirrored evaluation, his mind now surging with questions and possibilities. Whatever the answers were they would not be found outside so he carefully picked up the basket and brought the infant inside.

 

 

As he walked to the lounge room he spoke to the baby again. “I've never had such a small guest before,”.  

 

 

He sat on the black leather couch and placed the basket next to him. Hannibal removed the tattered material to discover the baby was naked inside, the skin, _her_ skin cool to his touch. “My apologies Miss, had I'd known you were outside my door I would have greeted you sooner.”

 

 

The baby predictably did not reply, no matter.

 

 

“Quiet aren't you?” Hannibal said. He picked her up then, his large hands steady, careful to support her neck. “You are much too young to be visiting houses.” Hannibal was not a pediatrician but based on an educated guess he would estimate the baby to be around a week old, if not days. Very young indeed.

 

 

He brought her into his chest and quietly scented her head. He had thought perhaps her smell would give clue as to where she was from. Hannibal shut his eyes and took a deep breath in, nostrils flaring in hopes to gain as much information as possible. He could smell the stale musty cotton of the blankets, underneath that was a sweet scent of a mother's milk and encasing all of it was the smell he could only describe as utterly ‘Baby’.

 

 

The baby in his arms began to squirm no doubt cold, with his initial investigation yielding nothing, Hannibal wasted no time to find his own softer material to swaddle the tiny naked body.

 

 

Unfortunately Hannibal and Will didn't own anything that was remotely baby sized so he settled on using a luxury bath towel made of Turkish cotton.

 

 

The baby calmed, her large eyes fluttered shut and was instantly asleep.

 

 

Hannibal sighed, a stranger's baby in his arms and his lunch forgotten. What was he to do? He had no baby formula and he knew he would need it soon. Babies were meant to drink every 3 hours or less, it was only a matter of time before she would begin to cry.

 

 

Time was of the essence, his watch said 1:30pm but a baby's hunger did not care for such notions. He knew Will would not be home for hours yet and Hannibal needed to move.

 

 

He did what he thought was necessary, the baby needed to stay hidden, at their home, while he, as quickly as possible, left to find formula.

 

 

While she was asleep Hannibal went upstairs and laid the baby out on his king sized bed. He took all the pillows and proceeded to build a makeshift boundary to surround the baby, less she accidentally rolls and falls out. Before he left he took one last look at her small face.

 

 

In town Hannibal was practically jogging into the nearby pharmacy. It was terribly unlike him to be rude and hasty but discretion was imperative. The exchange took less than a minute and Hannibal was out again and racing to his car. In the paper bag he bought a tin of the best available baby formula and a small bottle. It would have to do for now, he reasoned. If the baby's stay were to continue in permanence he would have to prepare a convincing situation and papers at hand.

 

 

Hannibal returned home promptly, keys at hand jingling loudly. He forcefully swung his front door open, banging it carelessly as he entered.

 

 

Greeted by a small cry from upstairs he went straight into the kitchen, shutting the front door indecently with his foot of all appendages!

 

 

Sterilizing the bottle and heating the water could not happen quick enough, and by that point Hannibal felt abnormally frayed. The infant's cries would not end, no doubt hungry, and Hannibal could understand the feeling intimately. As the sound clawed at his ears he almost sighed in relief as he poured the powdered milk into the small bottle. For the meager amount of 100 millimeters of lukewarm liquid Hannibal felt like he had performed a double bypass surgery.

 

 

Hannibal went upstairs with the small bottle in hand. Amongst the blanket the baby was pink with tears, mouth open in waiting. Her little arms grabbed at nothing, her legs kicking furiously. He placed the teet of the bottle by her mouth and was pleased when the baby latched on and drank enthusiastically.  

 

 

Once all the milk was wholly consumed Hannibal smiled to see the baby settled. She mercifully ceased her hunger cries and reverted back to her serene and inscrutable staring.

 

 

“No guest at my home shall ever be hungry.” Hannibal said as he placed the empty bottle on the nightstand.

 

 

With the crisis averted Hannibal could now examine the current situation properly. He fetched his trusty ipad and began a series of searches; kidnappings, recent births, missing reports, anything that could relate to the mysterious baby now under his care. After nearly half an hour, Hannibal was disappointed to find he was nowhere closer in finding out anything about the baby than he was when he first discovered her.

 

 

When he looked up from the screen he saw the baby was once again asleep. Carefully, he examined the infant; she was small but a good size, healthy. Her physical features told him she was of Asian decent but the blue in her left eye would mean she were only half. He closed his eyes to shift through his memory, he thought of the people in town, those he saw passing by and some he had known by name. Hannibal's memory was very good, freakishly so, but he could not for the life of him recall ever meeting anyone of Asian descent in the small quaint town.

 

 

His hand tentatively brushed at the baby's soft hair, her button nose twitched in response. The baby would certainly cause unwanted attention, what if whoever brought her to his door decided to come back?

 

 

Thoughts ran through in his mind, unsatisfied that he could not answer the numerous questions. He went back down stairs to examine the wicker basket hoping to discover something there.

 

 

Hannibal removed the musty blankets from the basket, crinkling his nose at the stronger scent beneath. The scent was almost moldy as though it had been kept somewhere damp, a basement perhaps? Obviously nothing like his own one. He quirked his eyebrow and stored his deliberation for a later time. At the bottom of the basket he found a piece of paper. He briefly felt some tendril of relief only for it to be thrown back into his previous state of unsettled curiosity when he saw the message written within.

 

 

 _Please help_  


 

It became clear to Hannibal the baby had nowhere else to go. She had been left to fend for herself, to trust whoever would receive her. There would be no one to return her to, but Hannibal was skeptical. There was still a possibility that someone, somewhere was looking for her.

 

 

It was a few hours later after a quick search around the woods of his property that Hannibal returned to his room with a fresh bottle of milk. He was unsurprised to find his expensive towel soiled by urine and baby excrement. It was inevitable, he clicked his tongue and sighed.

 

   

Procuring a new towel after placing the dirty one in the washing machine, he cleaned the baby and wrapped her once more with a fresh one. He fed the baby her second bottle and watched as she settled to sleep once again.

 

 

Clearly this was unsustainable. Hannibal may have a closet full of soft, luxurious towels but it would not last the needs of a newborn that was guaranteed to expel waste at a relatively predictable interval; namely after her feedings. Hannibal needed nappies, as soon as possible.

 

 

He wondered then if he should call Will or not. He wondered if he should deliver the baby to a local orphanage instead and forget the whole day had ever happened. He wondered if he had time to make dinner or make something to stave off his gnawing hunger that had followed him from his sabotaged lunch. And then just as he began to construct a viable plan he remembered that he had to check on the dogs; Victor and Valerie.

 

 

He had forgotten about the dogs.

 

 

Hannibal was reeling from his sudden loss of regiment, he looked over to the sleeping infant and frowned. This baby had crumbled Hannibal's schedule in mere hours of her unexpected arrival.

 

 

Suddenly his phone sounded in notification; a message from Will.

 

 

_Hey, I'll be home a little late._

_Just a meeting; post graduates._

_4:02PM_

 

 

Hannibal moved with  frazzled speed down towards the back door. He saw the dogs laying around by the white gazebo, their water bowl empty. Hannibal clicked his tongue and made his way across the grass and went about to clean the bowl and refill it.

 

 

Back inside the house Hannibal was utterly lost, tired, thirsty and undoubtedly famished. He needed coffee but he also needed to start on dinner. He planned on making roast lamb, luckily it was simple enough, and luckily he had marinated the meat since yesterday. All he had to do now was place it in the oven--

 

 

A shrill cry was heard from upstairs, the baby, Hannibal thought in grievance. Abandoning the Lamb in the oven he walked upstairs, all aware that time was running out, time in which he should decide what to --

 

 

The baby was upset, beyond hunger, Hannibal attempted to comfort her but she would only cry harder. Sighing louder than he would have thought dignified, Hannibal picked up the small bundle and held her against his shoulder. Medically he saw no issue, Colic perhaps? Air? He patted her small back firmly but gently until he heard a small but distinct burp.

 

 

The remedy was instantaneous, he pulled her off and held her in front of him. His shoulder now smelled of vomit, the cooling moisture soaking into his crisp shirt. She stared back and he looked into large heterochromatic orbs, glazed with moisture. “You foiled my plans, not many have ever achieved that feat. Today was my day to rest yet you have undone me, what's to be done about that?”

 

 

The baby blinked, uncoordinated arms escaping her cotton swaddle to extend, reaching and landing on the pointed edge of Hannibal’s nose. He smiled, a small thing, warm even though he knew the baby’s vision was limited. The touch of smooth skin against his weathered one communicated a certain connection he understood as trust, a pure thing given entirely by the vulnerable baby to someone so capably dangerous. Hannibal accepted her gift.

 

 

Entirely unaware, ensnared by the baby's touch, Hannibal failed to hear the steady sound of steps nearing the bedroom door. Snapped away from the distraction he held securely within his steady hands he was alerted by the click of the door.

 

 

Will stood by the edge of the room motionless, a messenger bag still slung over his shoulders. Heavy with books and a laptop, the taught strap rumpled his dress shirt and blazer. His glasses were precariously low on the bridge of his nose while his mouth was parted in a silent gasp.

 

 

“Will,”

 

 

“Hannibal, why is there a baby with you?”  

 

 

 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/ban_ban)


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